


Home Again

by anon7912



Category: The Boyz (Korea Band)
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:47:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25661605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anon7912/pseuds/anon7912
Summary: No one can cure a rough day quite the way your best friend does with his dimples and bright smile.For my dear friend, when I can't be there, I hope this helps a little.
Relationships: Ji Changmin | Q/Reader
Comments: 9
Kudos: 32





	Home Again

**Author's Note:**

> For my dearest friend.
> 
> I know this isn't JuJae, but I really wanted to write this. It's short and fluffy, and barely proof-read, but I hope it brightens your day, dear reader, if you're ever feeling down. Remember:
> 
> "We're all golden sunflowers inside." - Allen Ginsberg

It’s been a terrible day. Truthfully, there’s no specific reason or cause that precipitates your glum mood, but every once in a while, days like this come by — days where you feel unbearably helpless, where you wonder what the point of it all is. As you open the front door to your apartment, a dejected sigh escapes your lips, floating and lingering in the air. You’re prepared to be cold and alone once more.

To your surprise, however, when the scratched wooden door swings open, a familiar face is perched with its chin on the back of your sofa expectantly. 

“Changminie?” There’s no hiding the shock in your voice. 

“Hi bub,” he says cheerfully, eyes sparkling the way you imagine bright stars do in the night sky. They’re dancing with mirth at the flabbergast expression on your face and he hops off the sofa with all of his characteristic grace and ease.

“What’re you- I- I thought we weren’t going to be able to see each other till Christmas,” you say dazedly, eyes still blinking at the boy in front of you.

He flashes his dimples in a wide grin and leaps over to tug you into a familiar hug. “D’oy, that’s why this is a surprise,” he teases, and for a second, you don’t react, until slender fingers wound their way into your hair and suddenly the floodgates are opening. You hug him back fiercely, clutching at his well-worn hoodie and inhaling the clean aloe vera scent of his soap. It’s mortifying, perhaps, the way your tears seem to seep endlessly out from between your squeezed shut eyelids, and yet, Changmin does little more than coo soothingly and rub gently over your shoulder blades.

“If I’d known you’d cry, I wouldn’t have come,” he jokes quietly at length, and another hysterical sob bubbles out of you.

“M’sorry,” you mumble wetly into the fabric of his sweatshirt. “It’s just been a shit fucking day.” 

Changmin pulls back then to regard you seriously. “What happened bub? Are you okay?” he asks gently, tugging his sleeves down so that they cover his hands, before he dabs gently at your tears.

You shrug wordlessly, eyes fixed firmly on the ground. It feels so stupid, this inability to articulate what it is that has caused your melancholy, but just as you’re about to berate yourself for once again struggling to define your feelings, two small hands squeeze at your cheeks.

“Don’t. I get it,” Changmin says, lips pulled into a smile but with eyes that are filled with tender concern. Even as your face is being squished comically hard, tears well up again because God, you’ve missed this, the way he seems to just understand without words. 

“I missed you,” he murmurs quietly, echoing your thoughts, when he realises you aren’t smiling yet. “I hate that we go to different universities.” 

And you hate it too, hate the fact that you only get to see him on that tiny phone screen, the vibrancy of his laughter dulled by tinny phone speakers and the brightness in his eyes muted by pixels. But none of that matters now, because he’s here, warm and vibrating in front of you with unfiltered joy, and you raise your hands to squeeze his cheeks too. “I missed _you_ ,” you say, eyes crinkling. “S’not my fault you had to go off and get a scholarship in another city.” 

Changmin chuckles, relieved that you’re smiling again and rolls his eyes. “When you’re as intellectually well-endowed as I am,” he begins pompously, but he gets cut off by a shriek of laughter when you shove him. 

“Stupid,” you grouse, but you don’t get to keep your act up for long. Small fingers link their way through yours, and in the contact of familiar, calloused palms against your own, it feels like coming home. 

“Sit,” you say, dragging the dimpled boy over to your sofa. “Do you want coffee? Tea? I have-” you stop abruptly. There, on your coffee table, _coaster-less_ , is a cup of chamomile tea, already half drunk. Changmin grins at you sheepishly.

“I see you’ve already made yourself at home then,” you grumble, tugging him to sit down on the sofa. “You couldn’t’ve used a coaster at least?” you whine, and Changmin chuckles.

“Think of the water rings as imprints of my everlasting love,” he says cheekily, and you gag in his face. 

“Eurgh, no thanks, buy me a new coffee table,” you heave, and the soft laughter beside you makes you feel warm inside. Joking turns to contentment, and the two of you quiet down, simply existing beside each other like the old friends you are. 

The silence is broken after a while when Changmin asks gently, “Wanna talk?” You look at him carefully for a moment, weighing the options, but at length, you shake your head. Perhaps it would be a good idea to talk through your feelings with someone who knows you so well, but you find that, for now, finally being back together with your friend is enough. Talking will come later, when Changmin invariably forces you to spill every dark, twisty thought niggling in the back of your mind, but he understands instinctively that the warmth of his palm in yours is all you want in this moment.

“Nah,” you say in answer to his question, even though it’s a needless response. “Let’s watch the new Annabelle.” Changmin quirks an eyebrow at you. 

“You _hate_ scary movies,” he deadpans flatly. You huff and nudge him with your shoulder. 

“Yes but I _love_ you, so quit your bitching and don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” 

He grins, all white teeth and cavernous dimples, before hopping off to set it up on your banged-up-but-still-functional TV. You flick off the lights, and the warm room is dark save for the creamy oranges filtering through the window of the setting sun. As the opening scene begins to play, Changmin slumps back onto the sofa beside you. Silently, he folds your hands together once again, the way he always has since before you two could even walk. His soft, mild scent fills your nostrils, and his hair tickles your cheek from where he’s laid his head on the sofa back. 

Everything about Changmin is warm and bright, and with his hand in yours, you think, not for the first time, that as long as he’s here, you’ll never be cold again. 

**Author's Note:**

> All my love,
> 
> Anon.


End file.
